The Basilisk and His Predicament
by phooykazooi
Summary: Something goes wrong in the Chamber of Secrets. Instead of allowing Harry to kill the basilisk, Hogwarts saves it. Unfortunately, the only way to save it is to make it human. How is a basilisk to survive his new life and Voldemort? Rating may go up, but not by much.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter does not belong to me. It is a wonderful masterpiece of J.K. Rowling.

Enjoy!

oMoMoM

Hogwarts' magic boils around the basilisk, trying to break the connection between himself and the broken soul. She wraps around the ropes tethering him angrily, pulling desperately at them. She attempts to reach the colorless, fragmented soul, but the soul is hiding behind another wizard, using the girl's bright essence as a shield. Hogwarts loathes to harm another, most especially one so pure. But if the events continue as they are, Tom Riddle will absorb the girl's soul into himself. He mostly has. If Hogwarts must go through the girl to stop him, she will.

Meanwhile, the basilisk is mindless, doing as ordered by the light wizard. He feels no sympathy for the dying girl, no hate at the demented, broken magic caster, nor anger at the hatchling. He simply does as told.

Eventually, the boy impales him with a sword that smells like oil. It misses his brain only because Hogwarts deflects it. She would have liked to knock the damn thing out of the boy's hand, he detachedly senses, but couldn't because the sword has an incredibly high tolerance to magic of any sort. The basilisk howls in pain, finally, _finally _cut form his hold because of the _agony_ of the weapon. Hogwarts does her level best to soothe him, numb the pain, but most of her attention is on Riddle, nudging Weasley softly, reassuringly, endeavoring to make way around her and _attack, punish, get him away from the children!_

The basilisk retreats to his chilly pool, away from the smelly blade and the _wrong wrong _soul, hating he cannot see, elated that he can think again and terrified because he knows he is dying. He cannot close his mouth and it hurts too much to wrap his flexible tongue around the blade protruding through his skull. The magic Hogwarts has attached to him cannot extract the blade. She cannot grip Gryffindor's sword and does not know why since she veered the weapon off its course before so why can't she now?

The basilisk becomes numb to the water and the scents in the air have become dull and bland. His hearing is dimming too and he _knows he's dying._

But Hogwarts won't have it.

She completely detaches from Riddle and congeals around the giant snake, pouring all the magic she can into every pore, every opening, and coaxes his cells into mutating. The basilisk doesn't know what she is doing, all he knows is _pain_ and he moans for Hogwarts to help. But the school is too busy to ease his suffering.

She sends him to sleep, because that is the best way to stop the torment that is going to save him.

MoMoMo

When he comes to, his body is aching, but the sensation is distant. He is warm, a different sort of warm than simply sunning (when he was free with Salazar and could feel the sunlight, that is), like the warmth is from _him_ even though he knows he cannot make his own heat. The next thing he realizes is that _every single_ _one_ of his senses have diminished (barring his eyesight; he's kind of frightened to open his eyes anyway). He takes a long, experimental breath, and discovers, yes, he can hardly tell the difference from one scent to another (he ignores how _off _the movement feels, deciding to find out _why _later). He tries his tongue, which is better at distinguishing scents anyway, and is confused when it does not reach its maximum length. It feels heavy, too, and he cannot flex it as he could before. It does not bring any scents back.

He twitches, and nearly faints from panic when he feels he has _limbs. _Hogwarts knows he's awake now and calms him. She saved him, he learns. But his body was too damaged, the wound nicked his brain, so she decided to "screw it" and made a new body from the materials all living things share.

She wants him to be calm.

"Calm?" He hisses back, angry that the sound is no longer as sinister as it once was, and how slurred the words are. "How can I be calm? _You changed my body!"_

It's because he would have died.

"So? At least I'd have-!"

But something stops him. Magic, so powerful it is black, is flickering through his blinded eyes (he now notices that there is a fabric, tight and snug, covering his shredded eyes) and dancing across his skin in an almost curious manner.

He learns from Hogwarts that it is the headmaster. That he can be trusted.

He seriously doubts that.

He desperately wants to up and slither away, but he knows he would probably fall over before he left the cushion he was placed upon. Also, he cannot slither anymore, he must walk or crawl, but he can't, so he tenses, trying not to move _at all_ because it is _so_ unnerving having four different things to control, not to mention the trembling fingers he once envied. Now, though, he would give almost anything for his true serpentine body.

The headmaster is an old wizard who walks with the slow pace of pained joints, but his age does not show through his magic. It is merry, touching everything around the human and pulsating with his slow, steady heartbeat. The basilisk's slightly bleached magic gathers about him protectively, and snaps at the man's curious, darker aura. The wizard's magic gets the message and withdraws, but it quivers toward him and he knows it wants to wrap around him and sense if he is a threat.

Usually, his magic pools around his eyes, ready to pluck the life from any fool thing looking at them. But he can't use his eyes even though his magic _is_ gathered there, trying to repair the damage. Not to mention the fact that _his entire bloody body has changed_ and he has virtually no other way to protect himself.

His slightly light magic still blanketed securely and tightly around him, Hogwarts easily slips her own magic through his defenses. She vibrates with amusement, curling teasingly over his vulnerable skin. His magic ignores her, knowing it can't really _do _anything about it. He hisses at her. She pokes his temple.

The headmaster speaks, but the basilisk cannot understand him, so he doesn't reply. For at least a minute, the wizard quietly talks. Annoyed, the basilisk hisses, "I cannot understand you, foolish old man." Hogwarts likes the "foolish old man" and pokes his temple again, a bit harder. He lifts his lip at her.

The man pauses, and says something else, in a tone that Salazar often used when he was saying something rhetoric. Finally, he leaves.

Only to come back, five minutes later, the boy who almost killed the King of Snakes trailing fearfully behind him.

In those five minutes, the basilisk was beginning to feel quite drowsy. He had burrowed, rather comfortable, into the _warm_ blankets and was beginning to doze off. He trusted the castle to protect him, or at least warn him if the humans spontaneously decide they do not like an ex-basilisk lounging on their bed and attempt to kill him.

At first, he believes the old man came back by himself, but he now sees that some of the old wizard's magic is covering the hatchling's tiny presence. From what he glimpses, the boy's magic is blue, like the sky (well, what he _thinks_ he remembers of the sky; the last time he was outside of the castle, he was a hatchling himself, nearly a thousand years ago. Salazar was with him then and teaching him the ways of the outside world. Secretly, of course), like all the other hatchlings in this school. He won't be able to get a proper look at the boy's power unless the headmaster leaves, however.

There was a short conversation between the two. Shyly and a bit nervously, the hatchling hisses, "Hello. My name is Harry."

The ex-basilisk would have blinked if he could move his eyes. "A Parselmouth?" he hissed back, drowsily. "I have met none but Salazar and that boy."

"You've _met_ Salazar Slytherin?"

"He hatched me, boy. Fathered and protected me." He let out a bitter, low laugh. "Then the others turned against him, locked me away, and ran him out of the grounds." He's thankful Hogwarts put him in deep slumber for the millennium he has been alive, waking only on the brink of starvation. Then the school would conjure a few animals, enough to placate him, then put him back to sleep. A shame he is so old but has been awake only a fangful…

Before he could get lost in the memories, he hisses, "Where am I?"

"In the infirmary. You've been here for a week. Your eyes-when-we had to bring you back, but don't know if your eyes will still…"

"Kill?" The basilisk completed the sentence for him. He does not know if the boy nods, so he asks Hogwarts, "Will they?"

The school knows he is speaking to her. No, they won't. His magic is unhappy at that, but he calms it before it strikes out.

"They won't."

"Professor, he says his eyes won't-"

Amused, he interrupts, "You're still speaking Parseltounge."

Embarrassed, he says, "Oh. Pro-" He stops and tries again. It comes out in ….whatever strange language he is speaking in. They converse, and in that time, Hogwarts considers the conversation over and is subtlety easing him to sleep. The ex-basilisk does not resist. He doesn't really notice, anyway. Soon, the boy says something to him, but he is too tired to notice. With Hogwarts humming quietly around him, he falls into something similar to the healing slumber Godric and the boy with white magic put him in.

oMoMoM

Firstly, I apologize for the borders, but FF wouldn't let me put up proper ones.

Secondly, no, the basilisk does not have a name. No need to worry, though. I have a name for him!

Thirdly, the only reason I have Hogwarts as a "she" is because I got tired of writing "it" and "he" has been used so much, it would confuse the hell out of me.

Please review! And critics are _more_ than welcome. I need all the help I can get with this. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

The next time he wakes, there's something in his throat and blocking his nose. His face tightens oddly, mostly his brows, and he realizes he's frowning. He breathes slowly through his nostrils and the thing _moves_. Growing alarmed, he takes another breath.

Hogwarts notices he's awake. She placates him and he learns the nurse here, the mediwitch, has been forced to revert to Muggle means to feed and hydrate him (he only knows what the term "Muggle" means because Salazar complained so often about them). His protective magic attacked any spells or charms she placed on him (his magic preened). She advises him not to remove the tube, even though it is uncomfortable. He will be sleeping again soon anyway. Besides, this is usually when she will change his bandages.

He grumbles but does as she wishes, excited at the prospect of seeing things that aren't magic.

A witch's aura gathers his attention. The majority of the color is deep red, splotched with purple so dark it is nearly black. The mediwitch, then. He wonders if he should get her attention, since he's awake. He chooses not to.

He still has the bandages around his head, covering his eyes, but he doesn't mind. He can live with being blind (hopefully, though, he won't have to). He uncurls himself from the ball he slept in, and gropes around the bedding he was placed on. His right arm hits a wire. He gasps, the _thing_ in his throat jolting forward and he feels it in his nose, too, following the sudden movement. He understands this wire is the same thing snaking through his nostrils and down his throat, feeding and watering him. Carefully, he follows the tube, touching it lightly as he can, but most times he misses or connects too hard and pulls by accident.

Soon, his exploring hand meets a bag suspended in midair. He wonders how he is being sustained by water. Hogwarts tells him it's not _all_ water, that the minerals he needs to survive are liquified. He still does not completely understand and he tells her to explain better. Patiently, she does. Apparently, there are ...things in the food he eats, and it gives him energy. That energy lets him do other things, like slither and produce poison. This bag contains all the things found in the food she was able to give him, and more, healthier things she couldn't reach from the forest. Interesting. He wants to find out more, but not even Hogwarts knows everything.

She suggests he focus on learning how to control his hands and arms before he tries walking. He considers it but disagrees. The sooner he learns to walk, the sooner he can explore.

However, the mediwitch notices he is awake. He hears her exclamation (and he is pleased his hearing is still as sharp as before), and she strides to his bed, speaking in a language he cannot comprehend. He tenses when he realizes she is coming directly to him, clenching his fists apprehensively. The woman reaches his bed space and his magic senses her extend a hand to him. It condenses angrily and the basilisk has to hold it back from burning her. She lightly touches his bandage, and he presses his lips together to keep from baring his teeth. Hogwarts insists she's to be trusted, and is going to remove the bandages, but won't if he misbehaves.

At this, he puts an effort in being still, his heart thrumming.

The woman finds the end of the bandages and begins to unwind it. It takes several long seconds, but soon, he can see the dark retreating, driven away by a brightness he must squint painfully at. When the coverings are gone, he is forced to close his eyes, grimacing, at the pain the world happily gives him. His magic, completely disregarding the witch, is swirling about him playfully in response to his nervousness. Hogwarts suddenly warns him that Dumbledore is coming, alerted by Poppy, the mediwitch. He wonders how she told the headmaster of his awakening so quickly.

The woman has grown silent, which he is thankful for. It takes a while, he doesn't know how long, but he manages to open his eyes. What he sees isn't much.

Everything is blurry, almost like there's a film of white covering the world. Poppy is speaking again, but he ignores her. Confused, he slowly brings a hand to his face (managing _not_ to slap himself), trying to discern it from the otherwise white background. He can, but only when it is inches from his wounded eyes. He splays his fingers, pleased when he can differentiate the space between them.

Dark, powerful magic flickers at the corner of his vision, a much deeper black than what he could make out from beneath the cloth. It is also _longer_; tendrils reach as high as the ceiling, thin and twisting and some reach into the room he is in, even though the headmaster hasn't yet entered. He wonders if the boy is with him.

When Dumbledore enters the room, his magic is drawn to the ex-basilisk, but the his magic snaps at it, joy forgotten. Again, the man's magic understands and avoids him, but, like before, he knows it wants to garner all the intentions it can from him. Harry _is_ with him, but he is obscured by the man's massive presence.

Immediately, Harry greets him. "Good evening. How are your eyes?"

The basilisk glances at the general direction of his voice, but the boy is hidden by white and twisting, dark magic. "They have been better."

"Can you see at least?"

My, the boy is more confident now. His brows free, they raise, imitating an expression Salazar would sometimes use. "Not very well. Everything is white."

Harry relays what he says to the mediwitch. When she responds, Harry translates. "She says she wants you to follow her finger."

Obediently, he lowers his hand. A shape looms darkly from the colorless void. He squints, trying to follow as it moves slowly back and forth. "Why would this help?"

"It does not," the boy hisses in reply. He backtracks. "Well, I mean, it determines how well your eyes are progressing, how much you can see and track."

The ex-basilisk makes an understanding sound. "And how well am I progressing?"

At this, the boy converses with the nurse.

During this, his eyes are becoming strained. There is a pressure behind them, so he brings his hands up to rub them. Poppy grabs them, and speaks harshly at him. The basilisk's magic boils at her insolence, and it wants to bite at her fingers, to poison them. With an effort, he holds it back, but he says, strangled, "Let go!" pulling urgently.

She releases him, as though she was burned, at his cry. He crawls backward, his back hitting the headboard of the bed, hard enough to hurt. He hopes he didn't harm her, does not want to be locked away again, but _like hell_ he's going to apologize!

The humans talk amongst themselves tensely, while the basilisk calms his panicked magic. Hogwarts flows about him like cool water, helping to calm it as well. Sheepish but stubborn, his magic does not feel ashamed for trying to protect its container from harm.

"Madam Pomfrey says she is sorry," Harry hisses worriedly. "Are you injured?"

"No," the ex-basilisk replies. He tries to make his hiss as gentle and unaggressive as he can. "My magic-it thought I was under attack. Is she harmed?"

"No, simply surprised."

To ward away any questions-and change the subject-he inquires, "Why can I not rub my eyes?"

"Um, prof-" he catches himself and translates the question. "She says it will make your eyes worse."

The basilisk frowns, narrowing his eyes questioningly. "How?"

"Um, your eyes-they are still wounded. It has healed almost completely, but if you rub them, it may reopen the wounds. They might not heal properly."

"Hm."

He can feel sleep coming. Hogwarts does not need to aide it this time, and he is displeasured by that fact. "You have questions?" He inquires. "You'd best ask them; I am beginning to grow tired."

"Oh! Yes, um, are you planning to kill any more students?"

The basilisk closes his eyes, shifting to a more comfortable positon. "No. I was not myself then. And I have never wished to kill them." Although Godric and his pets-the traitors...

"What do you mean?"

"The white wizard, he was controlling me. I do not know how." He knew his responses were becoming terse, but sleep was coming fast and hard. He wanted to slip into it, but if he spoke, he couldn't. "You have no need to worry. Humans are too small for food anyway."

"_White_ wizard? Do you mean Tom Riddle? Er, Lord Voldemort?"

Ah, _that_ name he is familiar with. "Yes. He found the Chamber, which by all rights should have been impossible." Quietly, he murmurs to himself, "The charms the others put on it must have weakened." He could sense Harry's curiosity, so he elaborated. "The ...Founders trapped me. They forced me into the cave Salazar built. It was meant to be my home, but instead, became my prison." His head is dropping forward and his voice drifting. He is so _tired._

The mediwitch is speaking now, and she sounds a bit angry. He doesn't know why.

Harry hisses something, but he's already asleep.

OJOJOJOJO

Phew. Sorry about how short it is, but I couldn't think of anything else to fill it with. Personally, I'm a bit disappointed by this chapter. The dialogue doesn't quite… hit the spot to me.

Oh, well. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Oh! And let me know if you see any mistakes. :D


	3. Chapter 3

He dreams of a damp cave and gnawing hunger.

He's stopped hoping Salazar will save him, and he also realizes he is going to starve to death (there's a natural pool nearby, so he won't perish from dehydration). The only animals that ever come down here are rats, but now, sensing a predator, they are becoming scarce. There are no fish in the tiny pool, having been eaten some time ago.

He wishes he would die.

Something soft and feeling _nothing _like the cave is all around him, and he is hot, like fire is circulating in his veins instead of blood. His senses are _incredibly_ dulled, his face tightening and contorting-frowning. He shouldn't be able to frown.

After a brief, quiet panic attack, he remembers what has happened.

Trying to calm his magic, which has reacted negatively to his feelings, he asks Hogwarts how long he has been asleep this time. Twelve days, she replies. Madam Pomfrey (the mediwitch; Hogwarts insists he calls her by that title, telling him it is a sign of respect) believed that he had overexerted himself. She nearly bit the headmaster's head off when he suggested waking the ex-basilisk with a potion or spell. Apparently, he contacted the Ministry of Magic and informed them of the sleeping, now human, basilisk in their walls. He remembers Salazar complaining about the Ministry, but he decides to ask about it later. He just hopes he won't meet them yet.

The mediwitch's red and purple aura is on pacing in his direction, and he hears the click of her heels a few minutes before she enters her infirmary. Hogwarts, like before, warns him the headmaster is on his way. He wonders why she wasn't in the room in the first place and then how she and Headmaster Dumbledore knew he was awake. He comes to the sudden epiphany that perhaps there is a charm or spell that lets them know when he is awake. He snorts, and muses about why they didn't think about that the first time he passed out.

When she enters, she makes a beeline for his cot, all the while speaking in that strange language. It is not soft, but he does not believe it threatening, either. Her magic holds no ill-intent, and when she begins to unwrap his bindings, though he has to hold back his overprotective, often hostile magic, he doesn't feel the need to bare his teeth at her. However, he must clench his eyes shut, yet again, from the light.

When he opens them, it is with the same results as before-white and blurry. Now, though, he can distinctly see shapes, vague and outlined very slightly by Hogwarts' black magic. Unfortunately, it does not pass. The basilisk raises a hand to his face, again, Madam Pomfrey's commentary background noise. He is gratified that, firstly, he doesn't hit himself, and, secondly, he can see the new limb _much_ better now. He must look past the coating of swirling white and green that is his aura, but he can see the dips and valleys of his palms, the shadow and wrinkles when he bends a finger.

Suddenly, Madam Pomfrey whistles, shrill and piercing. Startled, the ex-basilisk looks away from his examination to see her with her own digit next to his hand. He stares blankly at her. Lightly, she pushes his half-formed fist down and waves her own at him, first finger extended. After a few moments of her trying to get him to understand (which he doesn't), she huffs. Pointedly, she directs her finger right at her face. She moves it slowly, exaggerating the movement of her head and eyes. He understands.

By this time, some of Dumbledore's black magic is seeping into the doorway, but the ex-basilisk ignores him. It would be a few moments until the old man arrived, likely with the boy in tow.

There is no pain behind his eyeballs yet. It is encouraging.

Madam Pomfrey is shining a thin, very bright beam of light into his eyes from the tip of her wand when Headmaster Dumbledore strolls through the entryway, Harry behind him. There is another magical signature behind them, blue like the pool of water in his cave.

The headmaster conjures two chairs from thin air and they appear without a sound next to the magical creature's bed. He hears Harry sit on it, and the other unidentified wizard or witch takes the one next to the boy while the old man seems to ask Madam Pomfrey something. She replies briskly (the basilisk is proud that he can detect the emotions without knowing a word of what they are saying).

Harry hisses to him quietly while the two adults converse. "Good afternoon. How are you?"

"Well enough," he replies. The woman extinguishes the light, and he must blink at the white spots it leaves. "Who is with you?"

"Katherine Holosky. She works for the Ministry of Magic. She is here to determine if you are a threat to the wizarding community."

The basilisk scoffs.

Harry's magic is amused (he learned during his time with Salazar that a human's magic does not generally have a personality of its own. He wishes that his was the same. His magic, _somehow_, scoffs) and the ex-basilisk turns to squint at him, trying to see more than the sky-blue magic and shadowy figure. He doesn't succeed. "She has some questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really."

Sigh. "Ask away, I suppose."

Harry speaks with the woman, and, not for the first time, the basilisk wishes he could understand them. His magic doesn't care. "She wants to know how you transformed. Well, we all do, really."

"Hogwarts saved me." He considered lying, but Hogwarts doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she is too busy trying to make the Ministry official uncomfortable. Subtly, of course. The woman's magic is flailing, keeping Hogwarts from reaching the woman's skin. For now. "After you stabbed me," he pays no mind to Harry's suddenly in-drawn magic, guilt making it pull closer to the boy's core. Okay, that would be a lie; he basks in the guilt. "She didn't want me dead."

At the same time, Harry's magic shifts with his curiosity and confusion. "You mean-the _school?"_

Half an hour later, he is _still _explaining to Katherine-or, rather, Harry is-about Hogwarts. She is _incredibly _skeptical, but he doesn't care.

Hogwarts didn't really come _alive_ until about two centuries after the castle was built (Hogwarts tells him; he only knows how to count to one hundred, curtesy of Salazar). She didn't realize there was another being hidden within her foundations-deeper, really-until fifty years after she awoke. She could not break down the cage that held the basilisk, no matter how hard she would crash herself against it. The most she _could_ do, centuries after his imprisonment, was feed him when he was too hungry. Even then, though, it took decades to squirm enough of herself into the room to offer him sustenance. She would pluck five or so animals from the surrounding forest, usually deer or hogs. Then, her magic would be repelled; the three other founders, the _traitors_ had warded the damn place so well, it kept the magic of the entire fucking school out. By the time she found him, he was more than half-starved.

Katherine is disinclined to believe him, but to the headmaster and Harry, it seems as though _everything_ makes sense now. For ten minutes after his explanation, the humans, mainly the two adults, talk amongst themselves. Bicker is a much better way of putting it, however. Hogwarts has grown bored of the Katherine's resistance some time ago, and is now playing with her magic, making the woman agitated and bit paranoid. It is quite amusing.

Being awake for fifty minutes has taken its toll. His eyes began aching some time ago, he's not sure when, exactly, and sleep is drawing near. Harry tires of the one-sided argument, and quietly hisses, "Do you have a name?"

At this, the ex-basilisk blearily opens his eyes. He looks at Harry's too-blue aura, but can't see anything else. "No."

He's surprised at that. "Really? Surely Salazar would have given you one."

"...He said he could not find a suitable name for me." He smiles. The expression feels peculiar, but not unpleasant. "For three summers, he tried to find a proper name. That man was a fool at times."

"_Three years?" _Harry hisses, incredulous. "It took him _three bloody years_ to find a name?"

"No. I was found before he could, remember?"

"Oh. Yes, that is right." He is still skeptical.

"It took him longer to do certain things. Besides, he never was very good at names." A pause. "But, then, I did not like many of them."

Phew! Done! Well, lemme know what y'all think!

By the way, any name ideas, preferably beginning with the letter "D?" I already have a name for him (kinda) but will change it if I find something more suitable. Once again, it must begin with the letter "D." :D


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, next chapter! I do not own Harry Potter or any of his friends. I honestly don't know if I own Nameless either... You know, considering he is (kind of) J.K. Rowling's basilisk... Oh! Did you know that Salazar's basilisk was actually FEMALE! I didn't find that out till I already made up Nameless, so... Bah. Oh well. Enjoy and review!

o.O 0.o

The next time he wakes (three days later), Harry is reading from a list of names he and his friends concocted. Katherine has yet to arrive, and Harry has decided the ex-basilisk needs a name. He explains it's urgent because he is leaving for summer vacation in two days. Most of the names are rejected and Harry is beginning to grow exasperated. Katherine arrives before they are able to come to a decision.

All she wants is for the snake to repeat his previous information. So, patiently, he does. He reiterates his tale, and Harry translates word for word. Luckily this does not take as much time as before; only twenty minutes. Dumbledore asks, through Harry, about magic. So he explains.

A human's magical aura is much different from his own. He does not know if his is the same as other basilisks, as he has met none, so he cannot compare his to other giant serpents or any other magical creature. A wizard's magic is a representation of his or her emotions. If the wizard is happy, the magic is happy. But _his_ magic has its own personality. It decides things for itself, and is capable of understanding situations and act on what _it_ thinks should be done.

This clarification took the better part of an hour and the ex-basilisk was suitably agitated. So was Harry. He can feel sleep just behind his eyes, but it had not yet gripped him in its hungry maw. Madam Pomfrey, bless her purple-red soul, escorts the ministry woman out of her infirmary, and even looks ready to pull the headmaster out by his beard, but seems to think better of it and let him be.

o.O 0.o

"Zachary?"

"No."

"Zachariah?"

"No."

"Daniel?"

"No."

"Bob."

"…"

"Okay, okay, no need for the look…"

They have yet to find a name.

o.O 0.o

Harry has finally given up. He pouts, slumps into his chair. "Steve." He hisses, a last resort effort.

He is about to refuse, but Madam Pomfrey speaks at that moment. Harry lets out a loud sigh and the basilisk blinks at him. The boy's magic is sluggish, reluctant, and the basilisk thinks he knows why.

"I must leave," the black-haired boy states. "Madam Pomfrey wants you to rest."

"I understand."

Harry stands and waves goodbye.

"Harry." The boy stops and looks him. "If I am not awake by the time you leave, rouse me. I would like to see the outside again."

Of course, it doesn't occur to him until two days later that he needs to learn how to walk. Dammit.

o.O 0.o

Harry wakes him three hours before his departure. Dumbledore is with him, as usual, and Madam Pomfrey is _almost_ as angry as the basilisk's magic-and his magic is _not _happy. It takes quite a bit of persuading for it not to light Harry on fire, but he manages. Barely.

"I am leaving in two hours. My friends are still packing and said they will meet me on the carriage. Can you sit up?"

Drowsily, the ex-basilisk complies, and he begins the tedious process of dragging his new legs over the bed. It is much more difficult than he imagines but is too tired to be frustrated. Once he is (more or less) upright, he takes a few moments to wake up properly. He hisses to Harry, "Carriage?" His throat is sore because of the feeding tube Madam Pomfrey has yet to remove, but he resists the urge to cough because that will only make it worse. What he needs is water. He looks to the end table that he just notices and is delighted to find that there is a glass of water, condensation clinging to the surface.

"Yes. There are carriages that take us to the train's platform."

The basilisk does not know what a train is, but he doesn't ask. Instead, he carefully reaches for the glass, frowning in concentration. He hits the cup too hard and it wobbles threateningly, but Harry settles it before it spills. He keeps it still until the ex-basilisk is able to hold it. Wary of spilling it, he slowly brings it to his lips, using both hands, and drinks for the first time since he has become human. It is _marvelous_.

Handing the cup to the boy, the basilisk begins the epic journey of standing.

It takes twenty minutes before he "gets the hang of it" and is able to stand on his own. Walking is an entirely different matter. Harry suggests he use a "wheelchair," but the basilisk curls his lip at the contraption. He insists to walk on his own. He practices for an hour before Madam Pomfrey declares enough is enough. She pulls the wheelchair in front of him and says something harshly.

"She says if you want to see me off, you will have to do it in the chair," the green-eyed boy translates sheepishly. "Honestly, Steve, it is fine if you stay here; I do not mind."

For now ignoring the name (like hell he'll be called _Steve_), the basilisk considers the boy, reading his magic. He is lying. Harry wants him to come, and is guilty because he thinks he is being selfish. Tch. He feels guilty for _everything_. Honestly… Staring disdainfully at the chair, the basilisk decides to screw his pride. His magic recoils at the shame, but he ignores it. Reluctantly, he sits into the contraption, being sure to show through his stiff body how displeased he is. Hogwarts is nearly beside herself with pride and it slightly pacifies him. But what really gets him is Harry's grateful and still-sorry aura.

"Thank you."

He snorts. "You shall _not_ call me _Steve._"

Harry just grins, magic twirling with happiness and mischief.

Madam Pomfrey takes her place behind him (he ruthlessly pulls his rebelling magic closer to his core in response to its indignant behavior) and rolls him forward. Harry is to his right and Headmaster Dumbledore on his left. The old wizard and his student talk while the basilisk greedily takes in everything he can of Hogwarts' walls.

His perusal of the moving portraits is interrupted when Harry states, "While I am gone, you are going to learn English."

Ah. So _that's _what this language is called.

"Am I? That will be convenient."

"No kidding. Dumbledore will choose someone to teach you, I think it will be a teacher from the school. The Ministry offered to send someone, but he refused, so…"

"Hm."

"Oh, and when we get to carriages, I don't think it would be a good idea to converse in Parseltounge. It is considered a dark trait and I have enough grief from Malfoy."

At this, the basilisk turns to stare at Harry with narrowed eyes. The boy isn't looking at him, instead his focus is somewhere on the wall and it must be very important for him to be watching so intently. Harry's magic is curling uncomfortably just a hair above the boy's skin, tight and guilty.

"Very well," the basilisk concedes, done with his scrutiny. Salazar told him, long ago, about that rumor. When he first heard it, he literally laughed. Honestly, wizards and their fears… "However," he raised a shaky arm and pointed at his partner warningly, "if someone speaks to me, I will _not _hesitate to reply. Besides," he continues, arm dropping to the armrest and lips quirking, "it will be amusing to see their reactions."

o.O 0.o

Outside is a new world. The sunlight is _divine_ and the basilisk tips his head to its warmth, inhaling the free, clean air. The feeding tube wriggles warningly, but he is adept at ignoring it now, so he does. He looks about as best he can through the white fog that has yet to disappear. Unfortunately, he can only see as far as Headmaster Dumbledore before the fog obscures everything within sight. However, natural magic is everywhere. It shapes into huge, darkly bright trees and lighter, twittering grass. Ants and things that look like ants scamper across magic-coated rocks. The path they are traveling is imbued with left-over magic from thousands of students and teachers, coming and going. Different coils have twined together, blue, white, black, pink, red, purple, all combined to make one ever-moving trail.

In the distance, there is a forest. He cannot see the physical shape of it, but he can see the imposing, twitching white magic that forms into distorted shapes that resemble something like trees. But they are too long, too bent and twisted. There are other things that flicker through the dangerous magic, wrapping themselves in it and feeding from it; it, in turn, feeds from them. He recognizes this quiet forest-the Forbidden Forest. It is as seductive now as it used to be when he was a hatchling, even in this semi-human form. He feels its song, a deep and rocking melody, not made of sound but he does not know how else to describe the "sound." It does not allow one to ignore it. It sings of power and shelter and protection.

But he turns away from the temptations it offers, focusing ahead of him; he will visits the forest later, when he can. The pathway is empty except for the four of them, which the ex-basilisk is thankful for; he doesn't think he's ready for bigger crowds yet. The chair he was forced in wobbles warningly against the uneven ground and pebbles, and he resorts to gripping its arms in fear of falling. The headmaster unsheathes his wand and, with a small, concentrated burst of dark, oily-colored magic, the wheels nearly glide above the dirt.

The ex-basilisk blinks at the man. Headmaster Dumbledore, eyes twinkling (how is that _possible?_), smiles warmly at him and winks a wrinkled eye.

o.O 0.o

Don't forget, oil looks like a bunch 'o colors in the light! If you don't believe me, look up "pretty oil drop" on Google images. It's just that people keep _spilling _it and killing things!


	5. Chapter 5

Dear "Gust,"

I would have PMed you, but my Yahoo! account didn't offer the proper link to do so and, when I tried to stalk you on Fanfiction's authors, I was unable to find your username. To answer your question (and anyone else's) no, Nameless is NOT female. It's just, I did some research on basilisks and I learned that males have a "single scarlet plume on its head." Females don't. In the movie and in the books, Salazar's monster lacks the "scarlet plume." Unfortunately, I already published the first chapter of this story, so… Yeah.

I also made a no-no and updated the chapter earlier than I meant to xp See, last chapter, the basilisk was supposed to go (all dramatic-like) "No! Wait! Harry, I have changed my bipolar mind! I wish to use one of your awe inspiring, fantastic names!" buuut it was already, like 11 PM and I'm training for cross-country, so I kinda was like "eff that shiz, I'm going to frickin' bed" and just uploaded the chapter as it was. So, yeah. Sorry for any confusion. And no need to worry, Nameless' name is _not _Steve (no offense to any Steves out there :P) OR Nameless.

The carriages Harry mentioned are being pulled by creatures made almost entirely of magic. The color of their souls is a nearly blinding white, shining through the haze that invades his vision. He actually needs to squint against it. Their unique magic travels thickly through the creatures' veins, forming something frightening-looking and four-legged.

Most of the carriages are gone; only three remain. Inside, the basilisk can sense two magical signatures, most likely that of Harry's friends.

Only Headmaster Dumbledore seems to notice the animals. With a wistful, bitter smile, the old man strokes one of them along its muzzle. The creature responds by pricking its ears.

"Okay," Harry hisses, "so this goodbye. For now." Abruptly, he says, "Darek?"

"No."

Small pause. "Doom."

The basilisk considers this, but ultimately declines.

"Dominic, then."

"Harry," Headmaster Dumbledore interjects, amusement in his tone.

The boy responds in English, sheepishly, then he says to the basilisk, "I suppose I shall see you next year, yes?"

"I suppose." Awkwardly, the snake drops his gaze, already missing the conversations he had with Harry. Hogwarts can do nothing to help, so she hovers sadly about. He sighs heavily, shoulders slumping in defeat. "Dominic it is. I _refuse_ to be known as Steve. So _mundane_. Of course, _Dominic _is no better, but…" He shrugs, like he's seen Harry do.

Harry grins. He says goodbye one more time, then boards the carriage. The animal trots away when the door is securely shut. The basilisk-Dominic-prepares himself for a long, boring, summer.

Three days later, when the basilisk awakes, the headmaster has another companion. Katherine is with him, as usual, but so is another wizard Dominic is unfamiliar with. His vision has improved in the three days he has slept, his body apparently deciding to finally heal the wounds his magic cannot. What he sees now is quite different from his basilisk's eyesight; before, he mainly saw magic, his surroundings "black and white." Now, however, he sees a multitude of new colors, most of which he is familiar with only through the hues of magic he caught glimpses of from his prison and when Voldemort made him go on those killing sprees.

The fog that Dominic has become so familiar with is thinner now, easier to see through. It has not gone, he still cannot see further than his arm if he stretches it out, but he can discern _more _in the bubble of clear air. Holding his hand to his face, he can see the little details, the bulging veins on the back, the crease of the finger's joints when he clenches the hand into a fist. The top of his hand is very dark, just a shade lighter than Dumbledore's mostly-black soul, but the palm and inside of hi fingers are a creamy color, and it is very interesting to stare at. It is smooth, too, but he doesn't really have anything to compare it with. Already, he's made a habit of rubbing the pad of the thumb against the nail of a finger. It's a completely foreign sensation but strangely addicting.

Madam Pomfrey swoops upon Dumbledore and his two companions like a cat, hackles raised and nearly hissing at them in anger. He suspects it is the Ministry woman who rattles the medi-witch so. He senses the way Madam Pomfrey's magic condenses, preparing for defense or attack, and Katherine's doing the same in response. Dumbledore says something, very calmly, as though trying to calm two snarling dogs. Dominic sees his magic literally smooth the spikes of angry auras, but Madam Pomfrey's is not appeased. She says something about Dominic, he heard his name, and he squints through the murk that surrounds him, curious, but all he can see is the magic of the four humans. As Madam Pomfrey stalks away, her magic bites Katherine's. The Ministry woman's cringes, hurt, but holds its ground, bristling with indignation.

Through the entire thing, the new wizard is quiet, his golden-hued magic amused. He shuffles to the right Dominic's bed to the point where his vague shape becomes visible. What the ex-basilisk sees is a tiny figure, scarcely a few inches taller than the cot. He says something in a high, squeaky voice directly to Dominic. The ex-basilisk blinks at his general direction (he's too far away to see where his face is; the wizard looks like a gray, squat blob) in response. He opens his mouth to ask Hogwarts what the man said, but, sensing his question, she interjects. She tells him he must learn on his own, without the help of the school.

He shuts his mouth with a snap, fuming. Why? How in Merlin's name is going to learn a completely new language? He almost hisses at the little man, just to see him squirm. But Hogwarts cuffs him on the back of his head, chiding him. This entire thing was quick, only about five seconds, but Dominic senses the golden-souled man's interest piqued. Dominic wonders how much he saw.

The ex-basilisk tenses, watching as a weathered, old hand emerges from the fog. His anger is swapped for suspicion as the man's hand slowly reaches his person. He lifts his lips and glares, hoping the little wizard will get the message and stop. He doesn't. He goes so far as to tap Dominic's chest briefly, then says, "Dominic." The way he says his name is peculiar, a far different accent than when Harry or himself says it. Then, he gestures to himself. "Filius." He repeats this.

Dominic tries to imitate the way he speaks, but he cannot pronounce them, even his own name. Frustrated, he sinks back into his pillows. Filius, though, is anything but discouraged. Rather, he starts the process again, being sure to carefully articulate the vowels and syllables. He is doing so with such enthusiasm that Dominic cannot help but continue as well.

Filius is an exemplary scholar. He is excitable, Dominic's magic likes him, and he is patient to the point of rivaling Hogwarts (and she can take _decades_ to anger). Dominic gets frustrated easily, and he has endless troubles enunciating the simplest vowels. Through the following weeks, Filius would babble, regardless of wether or not Dominic understands a word (which he doesn't at first, Hogwarts _still_ refusing to help, though not without guilt). Dumbledore and Katherine follow him, and sometimes talk amongst themselves while Dominic struggles with pronouncing different words.

His vision is slowly improving. In two weeks, he is able to analyze the entirety of the hospital wing, see what the humans look like. Madam Pomfrey is obviously pleased with his progress, and sometimes she would speak with him. He would have no idea what she's saying, but listen attentively anyway. Once, she sat with him and named different potions, and, he suspects, its effects. She would make him repeat the names (which sometimes took minutes, sometimes nearly an hour) and make certain he knew where they were.

"Dreamless Sleep Potion?"

Dominic obediently points at the farthest cabinet, to the right of himself and near her office.

"Pepperup?"

Directly to the previously mentioned's left.

"Skele-Gro?"

And so on for typically an hour.

{:D_}:D_(:P

DONE! CHAPTER COMPLETE!

Yes, Dominic is black and is being taught by Filius Flitwick. Over the next two chapters (hopefully) y'all'll know more about what he looks like. :D

Let me know how you think, please. (REVIEW, YOU JERKS)

~Phooy


	6. Chapter 6

Okay, chapter six is up! Review!

The _Harry Potter _series do not belong to me; they belong to the genius, wonderful woman-J. K. Rowling. We love you.

Chapter Six:

After two weeks, Madam Pomfrey decides he needs to learn to walk. He is developing a regular sleeping pattern with an average of twelve hours. He is allowed to drink on his own. Hogwarts tells him that if he keeps this schedule, he will be deemed healthy and the feeding tube will (FINALLY) be removed. He now knows simple, necessary words such as "yes," and "no," and how to introduce himself as well as other phrases and vocabulary, but not enough for a conversation of any sort.

Madam Pomfrey helps him with his second attempt at walking. He grips her forearm as he finds his balance. Filius, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Katherine are with him. They are talking excitedly, no doubt offering advice, and Dominic can't help but reply in Parseltongue. They can't understand a word and it only incites them further. Madam Pomfrey eventually snaps at all of them and they quiet a bit, but the room is filled with happy, twirling magic, Dominic's own intermingling.

Holding her arm like a lifeline, Dominic takes a step forward. He looses his balance instantly and lands flat on his face.

It becomes apparent that he has _no_ coordination. Even as a basilisk, he recalls, he would knock things over by accident (mostly Salazar, the poor man) or misjudge a distance and (somehow) fall. This was exceptionally confusing, as Dominic had no arms or legs to entangle. And now, with a body he knew next to-no, nothing about, he was a walking _deathtrap._ By the end of the day, he is surprised he hasn't broken his neck and died yet. Even the hour of practice-walking with Harry gave him more bruises than skin.

Along with learning to walk on his own, he is also still mastering English. It is slow going, and Hogwarts tries not to assist when she can help it. Almost as soon as Harry left, two weeks ago, he has been learning. Filius is incredibly patient and has no qualms about "acting it out." He also brings "flashcards" with pictures on them, the written word posted in a simple script on the bottom. He tells Dominic the word of each corresponding photo. Most of the pictures are of things he's never seen before, such as a "cat" grooming itself or an "owl" blinking calmly at him from its perch on a tree branch. He has seen "rats" only because they would scamper into his cave and die from looking into his eyes and he would then eat them.

Headmaster Dumbledore visits every day, sometimes for two hours, sometimes for five minutes. Katherine, however, is with him all the time, accompanying Filius and taking notes on a clipboard she has taken to carrying with her. Hogwarts has become bored of playing with her, but even so, the woman's paranoia has not faded. Dominic is growing impatient of her presence.

As well as learning to speak English, Filius has decided Dominic must read and write. Katherine has expressed her doubts on the success of this through her dubious magic and quiet mutterings. Dominic doesn't know what she says, but he knows that it is not positive. Filius does his best to ignore her, but he must catch her sour remarks because his foreign magic bubbles with anger.

Salazar attempted to teach him this once, with little success. He would magic the same alphabet Dominic's looking at now, making the letters float in midair with no supports or board. Unfortunately, Dominic was unable to understand a thing of it. Now, however, Salazar's short-lived lessons are helping him to comprehend the written word.

On the blackboard Filius conjured is the alphabet. There are two rows of letters, uppercase and lowercase. Dominic does not understand the difference and Hogwarts' answers do not make sense to him, but he dutifully copies the letters onto the smaller, handheld chalkboard he was given. It is sloppily written, more like squiggles, but Filius is so enthused about Dominic's progress he topples right off the stack of books he was using to reach the blackboard.

Just like all the previous lessons, Filius points to a letter and imitates the sound, gesturing for Dominic to do the same. Most of them are _unbelievably _difficult, and, when he first began learning, it took hours to get through half of the alphabet. He and Filius were forced to stop when Madam Pomfrey glanced out the window, saw the sun had set (they began about three hours before midday, when the sun is highest) and promptly screeched at Filius, who scuttled out of the room as fast as his tiny legs could take him and Dominic half-expected her to hurl potions at his back. Then, she turned to Dominic.

It was the single most terrifying moment of his life. The fact that he couldn't understand her only made it worse.

XXxxxXXXXxxx

Two weeks and three days after Harry's departure, Madam Pomfrey decides Dominic will be removed of his feeding tube. She can't Banish it, since that may remove some very important organs too, like his stomach. Besides which, his magic (being the unreasonable, overprotective thing it is) flat out refuses to have any sort of other magic afflicting its host. Dominic suspects that even if it knew what the humans were saying it still wouldn't allow any spells cast on him (like Dominic, it is learning this strange language. It knows what is happening around them and is trying to grasp some understanding so it does not rely solely on Dominic and Hogwarts for translations. Dominic is "getting the hang of it" faster than his magic, which it is resentful about).

Madam Pomfrey must pull it out by hand. At first, there is much arguing between the medi-witch and himself which is pointless because neither could understand what the other was saying. Eventually, Hogwarts cracks and explains the situation. The removal is bordering on painful and Dominic reflexively retches afterward but Madam Pomfrey doesn't so much as blink. With a flick of her wand, the bile vanishes as if it were never there. He wipes his mouth, grimacing.

His first meal looks a lot like the liquified food in the feeding bag. On a tray sits a single soup dish-a shining white bowl filled halfway with thin, creamy soup-and a glass of water. A utensil-"Spoon" Madam Pomfrey tells him-is handed to him. "Eat," she says. Guessing she means for him to eat, he glances at the "spoon," wondering what to do with it. He's hungry, mouth salivating as the smell of the soup-dulled though it is-reaches him. He begins to place the silverware down, so as to hold the bowl and gulp it down from its brim. Filius tuts, and plucks the "spoon" from Dominic's grasp. He dips the curved part into the broth and brings it to his mouth, then, with a slurp, downs it. He returns the spoon to Dominic and the ex-basilisk imitates the little wizard. After a few tries, he gets it successfully and with only a few spills.

Madam Pomfrey makes him drink the entire bowl and the water, but he doesn't mind. He can't really remember a time, except after he met Harry, that he hasn't woken up so hungry he can't think straight, eating whatever poor beast Hogwarts managed to squeeze in, then going straight back to sleep. Most times, he was asleep long enough for Hogwarts to prepare something big enough to satiate him, but sometimes, he would make due with a single boar.

He doesn't know how to describe the soup's taste, so he won't. It's hot, hotter than the prey Hogwarts got for him, but he doesn't care; he likes the heat. With a satisfied sigh, he returns the bowl to its tray, emptying the water next.

Stomach full and feeling drowsy, Dominic leans against the railing of his bed, debating whether or not to remove the blankets. Being below the lake and surrounded by cool water, the dungeons are cold all the time. Salazar thought ahead and placed temporary warming charms on the walls, floor, and ceiling of Dominic's cave. He was studying runes to keep the room permanently warm, suitable for a cold-blooded being. Salazar was brilliant, but he was no Rowena Ravenclaw.

Salazar admitted he hadn't studied nearly as much as he should have on rune magic. It is a complicated branch of magic that can take a lifetime to master and even the simplest take years to work, he said.

A year after Dominic hatched, Salazar etched the runes onto the stone floor of the cave (this actually took ten months; he had to be absolutely _positive_ nothing was out of place-not a crack at the edges, and, no he did not do this with any sort of magic. When asked, he stated, "Magic cannot always do what blood, sweat, and tears can." Not to mention, he had students to teach and suspicions to deflect). Then, he poured his magic into it.

"How long will this take?" Dominic asked.

"This must be precise. Any less than necessary, the runes will be useless and I must etch them into a different area. Any more, it is likely to explode and take half the school in a blaze that rivals Fiendfire."

"Oh. May I be of any assistance?"

"Why, yes. I would be _delighted_ if you could withhold yourself from venturing near and, however accidentally, colliding into me. It would be _dreadful_ if your inelegant self ruins this and causes the entirety of Hogwarts to go up in flames."

Salazar finished the runes the next month. They were damaged a year later, during the duel between the founders when Dominic was discovered. They steadily lost power until, three decades later, stopped working entirely. Being warm was soon a memory associated with the happy times of his life with Salazar.

Dominic decides to pull the blankets to his chin and he falls asleep.

XXXXxxxxxXXXX

It would be _absolutely wonderful_ if someone could help me with the language part of this. What do you think Dominic would have the most trouble getting the hang of? Nouns? Past, present, future tenses, et cetera? I need some help with this; I'm only _one_ person!

Review!

~Phooy


	7. Chapter 7

_Okay! Sorry for the wait, guys; school and tests and laziness… _

_ Anywho, Harry Potter does not belong to me at all. -sobs-_

X

Like all basilisks, Dominic was hatched beneath _ka hessesha, _a toad. Apparently, it doesn't matter if both parents are female, because he was mothered by both a hen and a toad. The hen died before he was hatched, from old age, Salazar told him. "Just as well," he admitted. "If not from simple old age, illness. This filthy dungeon will probably do _me _in as well." His toad mother, however, lived for forty years. She was quite attached to him and his human father. Except to eat, she stayed with either himself or Salazar at all times. The wizard often used her for experiments, and Dominic supposed his human used one too many experimental potions on the poor amphibian and that would explain her curious behavior.

Veeseenthea_, _Mother in Parseltongue, was earthy-toned in both the physical sense and the magical. She was the average size and weight of her species-he knew this because on his outings with Salazar, they would study all the wildlife his father could capture without the aid of magic. Once, he even saw a horse. He was small then, hardly taller than Salazar even when he reared, so he was more "spooked" by the mammal than it of him.

When she died, it was like a part of Dominic went with her, just as a part went with Salazar.

X

When he wakes, there is a brown she-toad sleeping on his chest.

Dominic blinks at her. She doesn't wake. He blinks again. Her magic feels familiar, but he is not completely sure why. Huffing, he goes back to sleep.

She is still there when Madam Pomfrey wakes him, only this time she is also awake. They stare at each other blankly (his magic stirs behind his eyes, but can do nothing else, which, of course, only makes it angry). He doesn't look away as Filius shuffles to his bedside.

"Good morning," the little man squeaks.

Dominic tries to repeat the greeting, but has trouble pronouncing the words. Filius patiently and thoroughly assists him until Dominic can say it and be understood (which is quite a feat). The toad croaks. He squints at her, and she looks him in the eye in what he _swears_ is a challenging manner. Eyes widening, he hisses, "_Veeseenthea?"_ Her eyes slant and her minuscule magic warms.

X

Weeks pass and suddenly it is time for him to be sorted, to meet the other young humans. Dominic follows Professor McGonagall to the entrance, where the other first years will be. Veeseenthea is in his grasp because he'd rather hold her than have other first years step on her. He hears the excited murmurs and whispers of the new students and does his best to ignore the nervous twisting in his gut. The stern witch leads him around a corner, and then down the stairs, where he finally sees the little humans. Nearly all chatter stops when they catch sight of Professor McGonagall. She gestures for Dominic to join the others.

Holding Veeseenthea more securely against him, he schools his features carefully, hoping none of his nerves are showing on his face. He strides confidently to the side of the group that has calmer magic. They look at him curiously, no doubt wondering why he was with the teacher, but make no move to ask.

"Good evening," Professor McGonagall greets tersely. "Follow me to be sorted, please." And, with that, she turns with a magnificent swish of her cloak and strides away, the others following nervously.

"Hello," says a boy to Dominic's right. He is paler than the ex-basilisk, but he notices that not many people have Dominic's dark skin. His eyes are an odd shade of blue, one he can't place, and his hair is shaggy and an almost-blonde. He is the same size of Dominic, too, which he can't help but find disappointing. He misses being bigger than everything.

"Hi," Dominic carefully responds, being sure to pronounce the greeting as thoroughly he can. Even so, it comes out breathy and a bit (as Professor Flitwick tells him) creepy.

"Were you on the train?" the boy asks.

The ex-basilisk shakes his head.

"Oh." For a moment, his magic shifts uncomfortably. Then it abruptly becomes excited yet again. "Well, there were these _things_ there. I didn't see them, but I could feel them. They felt, I dunno, _cold,_ you know?_"_

Honestly, Dominic is rather proud he understands _half _of that. English is still tricky for him to understand and this boy spoke so quickly, Dominic was unprepared. As it is, the ex-basilisk only nods and pretends he knows _exactly_ what his new year mate said. Which he didn't.

At the top of the stairs, the human child changes the subject. "My name's Aden. Aden Jolask."

Ah, something he knows! "Dominic Evans." Very heavily accented and probably sounds more like "Omehk E'aannssss," but oh well.

"Well, Dominic, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Aden talks the entire walk to the Great Hall, but Dominic doesn't really mind. The human doesn't seem to notice that his companion never contributes to the conversation. When they got to the Great Hall, the first years _ooh_ and _aahhh_ at the floating candles and the enchanted ceiling. Professor Flitwick catches Dominic's eye and waves excitedly to him. The ex-basilisk returns the gesture. In front of the staff table, sitting on a wooden stool, is a hat with a peculiar tear across its front. The hat itself is not remarkable, but its _magic_ is. Not even considering that ordinary objects do not typically have magic, _this _one has four different magical signatures. Those signatures feel very familiar as well. Quite like four long-dead wizards…

Dominic looks for Harry, stretching his senses for his unique two-colored magic and completely ignoring the other, very quiet source waiting patiently on the stool. But he is nowhere in the Hall.

"Dominic?" The ex-basilisk hums to show he's listening. "What house do you want to be put in?"

"Slytherin," he answers once he comprehends the question. Definitely _not_ Gryffindor, no matter if Harry's there.

Aden blinks at him. "Hm. I'm not really partial to anything, but my brother's Ravenclaw. He's a fifth-year."

Aden wishes to be a Ravenclaw? Dominic is fairly sure he mistranslated. His mother croaks at him and he realizes he is holding her a bit too tight. He relaxes his grip, petting her apologetically. She quiets.

McGonagall explains about the Sorting Hat and calls names to be sorted.

X

"_Well, well, what do we have here?" _

Immediately, Dominic's magic reaches to rip apart its soul for daring to penetrate its snake. Hogwarts is expecting this, however, and she stops it before the situation gets out of hand, reprimanding Dominic for not doing the same. He gets the distinct feeling the hat is mentally raising its eyebrows.

"_No need for that," _it grumbles, "_I'm only to determine where you'll be placed. However, to do that, I'll need a peek at your mind."_

Dominic hisses irately. The hat chuckles and begins to creep into his mind, being sure to avoid most of his memories. Even so, it knows instantly what Dominic really is.

_"Merlin's great hairy balls!" _It exclaims. _"Salazar'd sooner come back from the grave and _burn my every, individual seam _than see you in another's House! _SLYTHERIN!" The sudden audible screech nearly made Dominic fall off the stool. Before it was pulled away, it mumbles in his head, "_A shame-you'd make an excellent Ravenclaw."_

Professor McGonagall points him to the table with the green banner and silver snake. He decides to sit next to another first year (he knows because he remembers his magical signature) whose magic is calm, if a bit untrained. The boy has a round face, and his skin is darker than Aden's but lighter than Dominic's. When he glances over at the ex-basilisk, Dominic notices his eyes are a very light shade of brown. It contrasts quite a bit with his tan face and dark hair, which brushes his eyebrows and flows over his ears. This strange boy reminds Dominic of Salazar, with his calm, collected magic and sly, cool eyes, even if their color is drastically different.

Deciding to try out his mediocre English, he says, "Good evening," once again pronouncing it slowly and carefully.

The dark-haired boy blinks at him, and he seems to consider Dominic's slim frame and halting, slow English. "Hello." He says, politely. "Are you foreign?"

Commence blank stare.

Hogwarts literally sighs and helps to translate. Dominic blinks in understanding. "Ah, yes." Then, the ex-basilisk places his elbow on the table (hitting it hard first; the plates and goblets clink from the force) and smartly puts his chin in the palm of his hand (Hah! He doesn't miss!). He watches the rest of the sorting and when Aden is called, he goes to the Hufflepuff table. There is no sign of Harry. Dominic hopes the boy isn't dead, because then this would be an _incredibly _boring year.

X

Phew! Seventh chapter done. It'll probably be a while until the next post. If anyone has any flames to spew at me, go ahead, just make sure they are also informative because I want to know what you didn't like about the story besides its general existence. And thanks to:

**Katkuh**

TheNarglesAreAfterMeCheerio's

ShinigamiRae

Smithback

Ae3qe27u

Thank you so much for your information, it was incredibly helpful. Or, I mean, it _will be_ helpful once I actually start writing dialogue for Nic. xD I'll ask again, in case any newcomers didn't feel like looking at the author's note last chapter:

It would be _absolutely wonderful_ if someone could help me with the language part of this. What do you think Dominic would have the most trouble getting the hang of? Nouns? Past, present, future tenses, et cetera? I need some help with this; I'm only _one_ person!

Thanks,

~Phooy


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